I shall be for ever in your debt
by annagallis
Summary: This very short "ficlet" follows on directly from my "Something in the middle", after the escape at the end of Baroness Orczy's first Pimpernel book. It is much more lighthearted than my last post "All was not yet complete"; I am sorry if that was too close to home for some.
**_"I shall be for ever in your debt..."_**

Andrew closed the door and paused for a few moments to reflect on what he had just seen. It was clear that Percy and his wife had been – he thought the word he and Percy would have used, sheepishly, at school – spooning. It was so unusual that he had been embarrassed, and glad to be able to escape on what was patently a wild goose chase: as if there was any chance of his finding a pair of shoes on board which would fit _those_ dainty little feet!

It was the first sign of real physical affection he had seen between them since their wedding. At last, he thought, at last perhaps the course of events had taken a different path, and they might find the happiness together which Lady Blakeney had admitted to him had been absent during all those months. Smitten with Suzanne's beautiful dark eyes and gentle demeanour, and afraid her formidable mother might not allow him to pay court, his own new feelings had awakened a sensitivity he had previously lacked; and he suddenly realised, with a pang of self-reproach, that he might not have been as staunch a friend as Percy would have wished: ill at ease, British, he had not encouraged confidences, despite knowing, for a long while, that Percy's marriage was not all it might be. He remembered Percy telling him that after the first time he had seen Marguerite he had been unable to think of anything or anyone else, for days, and had determined that she would be his wife; he had made the remark - meaning, Andrew was sure, to sound careless - that he had been attracted to Marguerite "like a moth to a flame – with the usual deadly results!" Andrew had been at a loss for words and had changed the subject: when he knew, now, that Percy might have welcomed the chance, perhaps, to unburden himself to his closest friend.

He thought back to when he had first met Percy, as a serious schoolboy of fifteen: when the notorious bully, Scott – here Andrew could still barely prevent a shudder – had decided that the day's entertainment would be to torment the new boy, Ffoulkes; and Percy, younger than Scott but taller, and powerfully-built even then, had knocked Scott down, pinned him to the ground, and forced him to return the book and to apologise. Andrew – and indeed many of the other less confident boys – had worshipped Percy from that day on; he was sometimes quiet and shy, but always cheerful, kind to his younger schoolmates, good at the gentlemanly sports and universally popular, with a well-developed sense of fair play, even at that age. These were traits, thought Andrew, which he still showed, and in the League he had also found an outlet for his resourcefulness, his courage and leadership. Everyone looked up to him – usually literally, thought Andrew with a smile to himself, before the smile faded as he thought perhaps that he himself had not matched his friend's kindness...

He had often wondered why, of all the women – and there were many – from whom Percy might have chosen a wife, he had chosen Marguerite St Just; she was outstandingly beautiful, of course, but ― quite apart from that awful St Cyr business, although now that he had heard her side of that dreadful story he understood she had been unfairly blamed ― she had often seemed rather cruel to Percy, appearing to take pleasure in whetting her already sharp wits at his expense, and never – he thought – showing her husband any tenderness; whilst Percy, he now knew, adored her: receiving no encouragement and little affection, he worshipped the ground she walked on. Andrew could not pretend to understand what more there was between them, but could only hope that now she knew who Percy really was, she would perhaps begin to realise his worth, as she had vowed she did.

And after all, when he had followed them down the cliff path to the little bay where the Day Dream waited for them, he had heard – whilst trying to pretend he could not – many of the endearments that she had murmured to his friend as he carried her – God knew how, when his back and shoulders must have been so painful – and many of those murmured in return; and then, on board the yacht, they had soon disappeared together to Percy's cabin and had not been seen for some hours...

Perhaps they had been ...

Well, thought Andrew, not before time; it was no more than Percy deserved! And he went off on his fools' errand, wearing a grin from ear to ear.


End file.
